


The Crucial Discussion

by MeganWrites



Series: Rod of Asclepius [10]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, mentions Bipolar Disorder, mentions of internalized homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:54:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5595439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganWrites/pseuds/MeganWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s late, nearly midnight, and Mickey’s going to be in the hospital for the rest of the night. Ian’s shift just ended, he could leave - should leave - and let Mickey take a nap. But he’s not sure when he’ll get an opportunity like this again.</p><p>Ian’s not waiting any longer."</p><p>Ian is a nervous medical intern, Mickey is a grumpy nurse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crucial Discussion

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Normally I would not warn for this, but considering the state of the fandom... If you are looking for something fluffy and uplifting to read, maybe read something else right now.

It’s as if Mickey knows that Ian wants to talk to him.

Mickey’s busier than ever in the days following Ian’s conversation with Lip. Even when Ian thinks he might have a shot, Mickey makes an excuse to be around someone else or to stay with a patient. It’s not that Ian hasn’t had a chance to be around Mickey, to joke and laugh and flirt. It’s just that it hasn’t been the right place or the right time.

Which is private and with no interruptions for at least a half hour.

It’s not ideal, but Ian takes his chance the second he sees Mickey walk into an empty on-call room. It’s late, nearly midnight, and Mickey’s going to be in the hospital for the rest of the night. Ian’s shift just ended, he could leave - should leave - and let Mickey take a nap. But he’s not sure when he’ll get an opportunity like this again.

Ian’s not waiting any longer.

He rushes down the hall and slips through the door, turning the lock as soon as he is inside. Mickey looks up from where he’s stretched out on the lower bunk of the bed furthest from the door.

“Isn’t your shift over, Gallagher?” Mickey grumbles, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

“I thought we could talk,” Ian says before he can talk himself out of it. “Since you’re on your break right now.”

Mickey sits up, seeming more awake and more cautious now. “Talk about what?”

Ian nearly rolls his eyes. Of course Mickey is trying to play dumb, Ian shouldn’t have expected more. “You know,” Ian says, “Everything that went down between us.”

“Ian-”

“We gotta talk about this, Mick,” Ian insists. Mickey doesn’t budge and Ian can feel himself starting to fall apart. He can’t let Lip be right, he needs to talk to Mickey, needs to make this work. “Please, Mick, I just - please,” Ian pleads, take the few steps to sit on the bunk beside Mickey.

Mickey narrows his eyes at Ian, still clearly reluctant to talk but says, “Fine. What?”

Ian nods and takes a deep breath. This is happening, this is his one shot, he needs to get this right. “Before anything else, I’m sorry, for what I said, about you being just nurse. You are amazing at your job, I could never fucking do what you do, but you don’t even break a sweat. Your advice and your help, I would be so fucking lost without it. I have all this fucking schooling but it’s nothing compared to your practical experience.”

Mickey’s lips twitch up at the corners as he nods, “Thanks. That’s - yeah, thanks.”

Ian nods, feeling a little more confident, even though he knows that was the easiest part. He takes a deep breath, “But I’m not sorry I said I love you.”

Mickey freezes, the beginnings of a smiling fading with Ian’s words.

“I meant it, Mickey. I love you. That’s not something I’m going to feel bad for, it’s not something I can pretend isn’t there.” Ian looks over at Mickey, sees his tight jaw but wide eyes. Ian’s not sure how to interpret that. “I’m not mad at you for what you said, or how you acted, I understand now. I know you’re not out and that all of this is scary, but I can’t be in this inbetween place, Mick. I can’t be your friend with benefits anymore, and I can’t be in this weird flirty place anymore. I don’t need you to tell me you love me, or fucking come out, I just need to know that this is actually something. That I mean something to you, that you actually want a fucking relationship with me.” Ian feels shaky and nervous, laying his feelings out, unaware of where it is going to lead to. Mickey’s been deadly silent the whole time, not moving an inch.

There’s more to say, more to tell Mickey. Ian wonders if he should mention his Bipolar Disorder and the accompanying anxiety that he’s been trying to handle. He hates thinking about it, hates talking about it even more. Ian wonders if then Mickey would stay with him. If he would agree to being in a relationship because he thinks it’s what Ian needs. Ian swallows, his throat feels dry. He can’t tell Mickey, can’t let guilt be the reason Mickey wants to be with him. Besides, there's just as much of chance that it will only make Mickey flee faster.

It’s a long silence, deafening and painful. Ian waits and waits, doesn’t want to push, but he just fucking needs to know.

“I don’t want that,” Mickey says quietly, his voice rough even in a whisper.

Ian crumbles with his words.

Mickey chews on his lower lip, rubbing a hand over his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. He squeezes his eyes shut. “Fuck, why couldn’t you just leave it, Ian?” Mickey sighs and shakes his head, “I’m not fuckin’ ashamed of bein’ gay. That’s not it. I just - it’s my fuckin’ business, a’ight? Don’t need everybody shoving their fuckin’ noses in it.”

Ian’s breaths are short and quick as he listens. He's trying his best to stay calm. He knew this was a possibility and yet somehow, he still hadn’t considered it.

“I just - I can’t do this shit, Ian. I can’t be that guy. I can’t - fuckin’ boyfriends.” Mickey’s words seem to get jumbled in his head before they come out. He’s struggling through the sentence, trying to get it out.

Ian gets it then, sees the fear in Mickey’s eyes. Mickey’s still terrified. He denies it, pretends that he’s accepted who he is, but he hasn’t.

“You don’t date men,” Ian says, finally resigning himself to the truth of it. He doesn’t know why it surprises him, he knew - he fucking knew. But he didn’t realize that it was this.

“I don’t date, fuckin’ period.” Mickey growls, as if that somehow makes it better.

Ian nods and laughs bitterly. “Because you’re interested in men, because you’re gay, you don’t date.”

“That’s not-” Mickey tries to argue, but Ian cuts him off.

“Isn’t it though?” Ian finally turns to meet Mickey’s eyes, determined to finally get this answer. He knows he’s pushing, he knows that he’s angry when he should be trying to help Mickey. But fuck, it’s still so hard to hear, hard to know that this is the reality.

He’s so fucking insanely in love with Mickey and nothing is ever going to come out of it.

Mickey gaze softens a bit, his lower lip drops as he breathes in, “I’m sorry.”

“Was it all in my head?” Ian whispers, “I thought - I just thought maybe.”

Mickey swallows and shakes his head. Even that looks like he’s pushing against his natural instincts. Then Mickey raises a hand, placing it on Ian’s cheek and rubbing his thumb along Ian’s cheekbone. He's looking at Ian like he’s precious and awe-worthy, but Ian knows now that it's not true. Mickey leans forward, closes the distance between them and slotting his lips with Ian's. Just a touch of Mickey’s lips and Ian feels warm everywhere. He lights up under Mickey’s hands as they make trails along his waist and neck. “I missed you,” Mickey whispers against Ian’s lips, “Missed this.”

Ian whimpers, nodding just slightly before he pushes forwards. He ignores everything telling him that this is a terrible idea. He climbs over Mickey, pressing him into the shitty mattress. He focuses on the feel of Mickey’s mouth, how his body responds and reacts so beautifully to Ian’s. When they’re like this, near attached at every point and wrapped around each other, Ian knows that they’re meant for each other. It feels like destiny that they met.

God, Ian misses this, misses Mickey.

It feels like he’s been wandering the desert without water, throat parched and head pounding. Lost and confused as he searches for something, anything, to take away the pain. And now he has, now he’s stumbled upon a beautiful fucking oasis, and everything in the world feels fucking right.

Except, this oasis - this moment - isn’t real.

It’s a mirage.

It’s a glimpse, a tease, of something Ian wants so desperately but knows he can’t have.

Mickey doesn’t want him. Whether it’s a genuine feeling or driven by his fear, it’s still true. Mickey doesn’t want Ian.

Mickey drops his head, mouthing wetly at Ian’s neck, sucking at his skin. Ian grips Mickey’s hair, holds him closer, holds him as close as he can. Ian closes his eyes, trying to quiet his mind and just fucking feel. He knows he shouldn’t do this, but he _fucking wants it_.

Mickey’s hands are soft and slow. They brush through Ian’s hair, draw gentle lines across his neck, over his shoulder and down his back. Mickey pulls at the hem of Ian’s shirt before sitting up. Ian moves with him, straddling Mickey's lap and letting Mickey pull his shirt off. Ian feels like he’s in a dream, hazy and nostalgic for something he hasn’t yet lost.

Mickey continues to trace the lines of Ian’s body, hands everywhere like he’s trying to memorize every curve. Ian knows the feeling, knows how desperately he needs that as well. He tugs off Mickey’s shirt in one swift motion before crashing their mouths together once again. Ian holds him just a tighter, a bit closer, plunging his tongue in Mickey’s mouth. He's desperate to taste Mickey, wishing he would never have to stop.

Mickey pulls Ian against him, falling back heavily on the mattress. Ian is covering every inch of him. Ian doesn’t bother holding himself up, just pins Mickey down, moving his lips to suck possessively at Mickey’s neck. He know he has no right anymore. He can’t claim Mickey as he’s own because now he knows that Mickey never was, but he wants it. He wants this to last, to echo into the following days, weeks, months. He wants to allow himself, for a moment, to think that maybe in a different world - Mickey could have been his.

He reaches down, tugging Mickey’s scrubs past his hips, far enough that he can pull out his cock. Ian uses the precome at his slit, smoothing over the head with his thumb. He savors the way Mickey breathes out, “Fuck.” Ian keeps his hand moving slowly, rubbing over the head again and again. Watching the way Mickey’s face screws up as he tries to hold himself together.

Mickey gets impatient. Ian knew he would, that’s just how Mickey is. But Ian almost feels a little sad when Mickey reaches down to tear at Ian’s pants and boxers until they’re pushed down to his knees. He knows it won’t be much longer.

Ian’s cock is left resting against Mickey’s thigh, hard, heavy and leaking. Ian changes tactics, wrapping his fist tightly around Mickey’s cock and giving him a few fast strokes. Mickey grunts and leans his head back, lips parted and looking so welcoming. Ian can’t resist leaning into kiss him, open mouthed and hot. Mickey grabs Ian’s cock, not bothering to tease and pumping Ian’s cock speedily. He follows Ian’s lead, rubbing over the head every few times. Ian tries to keep his rhythm steady but he’s falling to pieces under Mickey’s hands.

But that’s always been the problem, hasn’t it.

Ian gasps into Mickey’s mouth. Mickey’s lips turn up, always finding as much pleasure in making Ian feel good as he does himself. Ian curses and wraps his free hand behind Mickey’s neck, forcing him back into the kiss. He’s just not ready to part yet. Not yet.

Ian’s close, so fucking close. He can feel the heat burning low in his core, building and intensifying as Mickey continues to tug on his cock. Ian moves his hand faster, desperate to bring Mickey to the edge now, make him feel everything that Ian is. Ian gasps and drops his head to rest against Mickey’s shoulder. Mickey’s smells amazing, his body is warm and his free hand soft but strong as it wraps around Ian’s waist. Ian remembers a time when he had thought that if he were allowed, he would never want to spend a day without Mickey’s arms holding him.

“How am I supposed to say goodbye to you?” Ian whispers, his mind foggy with arousal and sadness knowing that this has to be the last time.

Mickey’s pulls Ian in closer, breathing heavily as his hand moves faster. “Don’t,” He murmurs back, “Don’t say goodbye, don’t fuckin’ do that to me, Ian.”

Ian wants to say okay, wants to tell him that he will never leave Mickey. He doesn’t want to leave. God, he doesn’t want to, but he knows he has to. He can’t do this anymore, can’t torture himself with the slim chance that Mickey could accept who is someday - accept what he and Ian have.

Ian instead says, “I love you.” One last time, with one last kiss as they fall to apart.

They lay together for a long moment, trying to catch their breath. Ian needs a moment to come down from the intensity of the orgasm, it feels like too much and not enough at the same time. He feels loose and sated but terrified to stand up and leave.

Eventually, he does.

He pulls away from Mickey, grabbing a couple tissues to clean himself up, readjusting his scrubs and running a hand through his hair. He stands for a long moment staring at the door, mentally preparing himself for what he’s about to do.

“So, this is it?” Mickey says, he sounds uncharacteristically timid.

Ian turns his head. Mickey’s sitting on the edge of the bunk again, his hair disheveled and scrubs haphazardly pulled back on.

“You and me, we’re done?”

Ian eyes feel damp, “Weren’t we already?” Mickey lowers his eyes and Ian can see the unshed tears brimming. It breaks his heart. “I don’t know what else to do, Mick.”

Mickey nods and sniffs, “We still friends?”

Ian swallows. He doesn’t know how to be Mickey’s friend. Ian’s been in love with him for so long that it feels like they were never just friends. But they were, to Mickey at least. Ian remembers Mandy saying that Mickey’s never had friends, no one else to depend on. But Ian was someone Mickey could depend on, someone to trust and look out for, knowing that he’s doing the same.

He should say no. He should tell Mickey that they can’t be friends. It’s what's best for both of them - common sense.

“Yeah,” Ian chokes out, nodding, “Yeah, we’re still friends.” He breathes in, sees the relief on Mickey’s face and feels the echo of it in his chest.

Mickey doesn’t say another word, Ian doesn’t push for anything else. There isn’t something else to say. By the time they see each other again the entire nature of their relationship will be different. They’ll have to be different.

How does he end that? What is there to say? How does Ian say goodbye?

He doesn’t.

He just leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry guys... but I'm one of those people that like to wallow in angst when they're disappointed and frustrated.
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr, let's chill](http://meganwwrites.tumblr.com)


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